


House of the Undying

by ThorinOakenshield (Barnesstony)



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Bilbo is the Mother of Dragons, Canonical Character Death, Feels, Game of Thrones AU, I'm not even sorry about this, M/M, Non-Canonical Character Death, because I needed this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-26
Updated: 2015-03-26
Packaged: 2018-03-19 19:27:44
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,764
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3621510
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Barnesstony/pseuds/ThorinOakenshield
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There were neither lights nor movement. Neither sound nor warmth. Erebor was barren and cold, a shell of the great dwarven kingdom he had heard so much about. His steps echoed in the dark and his path eventually led him to the king’s hall, where the grand throne of Erebor remained, empty and incomplete.</p>
            </blockquote>





	House of the Undying

**Author's Note:**

> Well after seeing one of the most heart-wrenching scenes in Game of Thrones for the billionth time, it occurred to me that there needed to be a Bilbo/Thorin AU based on it. And thus this came to be! So enjoy!
> 
> "Speech like this" represents that it is spoken in Westron (common tongue).  
> " _Speech like this_ " represents that it is spoken in Khuzdul.

Bilbo turned around slowly, observing the various doors encircling him. He wasn’t sure how he had even managed to get to the room he was standing in, but he knew that he had no time to waste. His dragons were waiting for him. With a chuckle to himself (and a quiet murmuring of, “What would Thorin say if he knew I had somehow become a parent to three dragons?”) he stepped forward and opened the door closest to him.

All he could see was snow and mist and Bilbo couldn’t help but frown as he continued walking onward. This place felt familiar somehow, in a way he couldn't quite put his finger on. A gust of wind passed and Bilbo’s eyes widened as he got a glimpse of his surroundings. “Erebor,” Bilbo said before hurrying his steps and approaching the kingdom’s gates. There were no guards, no signs of life. With caution he entered the kingdom and took in the wonder of its halls. 

There were neither lights nor movement. Neither sound nor warmth. Erebor was barren and cold, a shell of the great dwarven kingdom he had heard so much about. His steps echoed in the dark and his path eventually led him to the king’s hall, where the grand throne of Erebor remained, empty and incomplete. He envisioned Thorin sitting upon the stone throne, a crown placed upon his head. Thorin would have looked regal and divine, and Bilbo gave a weak smile at the thought.

His gaze turned to the smaller throne to the right of the grand throne and Bilbo felt his heart sink. “The throne of the king’s spouse,” Bilbo muttered to himself. It could have been his, would have been his. Bilbo tried to picture himself seated upon the throne and laughed at the image his mind provided. He was far from typical royalty, and he would have looked ridiculous in a crown and jewels. But for Thorin, he would have endured it. He turned and walked away from the thrones, not wishing to linger any longer on what could have been.

Eventually he reached the door he had used to enter the snow barren land and empty halls of Erebor. With one final glance to the Lonely Mountain, Bilbo opened the door and stepped through, back into the circular room. The door slammed shut behind him and locked, startling Bilbo for a moment. 

“Well, I guess I can’t go back,” Bilbo stated to himself. He sighed. That meant he had to be more careful and wise about his choices. He turned his gaze to the door across the room from where he stood and with sure steps he walked to it and opened it. He stepped through and shivered as once again he was met with snow and mist. 

It was darker here, Bilbo noted, as he began walking. He wasn’t sure what he was looking for, if anything, but as he progressed the cold began to bite at him. The winds became stronger and the sky darker and Bilbo, for a moment, worried he might freeze to death. In the distance he saw a small light, struggling to shine in the blackness around him. He ran toward it and the potential warmth and solace it could bring. 

As he drew near, the light began to fade and in its place a tent appeared, battered and worn from much travel and use. Bilbo recognized it as the kind the dwarves would use, something made of sturdy skins and furs to keep the cold out. He let out a slow breath as he pushed aside the flap of the tent and entered inside. 

He was met with warmth and Bilbo couldn’t help but sigh in relief at the feeling of it. He blinked, allowing his eyes to adjust to the surprising brightness of the tent. From within the tent it appeared to be midday, not night, and Bilbo wondered what sort of magic was upon this place. His ears picked up the soft sounds of movement and he stepped forward. His eyes caught sight of familiar decorations and artifacts and he felt his heart pound as he moved further into the tent. He was rendered immobile as he pushed back another flap and was met with a sight he yearned to see more than any.

Blue eyes locked with his as Bilbo stared at the dwarf sitting before him. Two dwarflings slept soundly on the bed behind him and a small hobbit babe was in his arms. Bilbo remained still, afraid that if he moved the vision would shatter.

“Ghivashel.” Thorin’s voice rolled through him, vibrating him to his very core and Bilbo felt helpless as he moved forward to stand before the dwarf. There was nothing but adoration in the dwarf’s eyes and Bilbo found himself smiling softly.

“ _This is dark magic,_ ” Bilbo replied easily in Khuzdul, the language felt nostalgic and sad yet beautiful on his lips, “ _like the magic that took you all from me._ ” His gaze drifted to the hobbit babe and he felt a sharp twinge of guilt as the bright blue eyes of his nephew glanced up at him. 

“ _Took you from me before I could even…_ ” He didn’t finish the sentence, afraid that his voice would crack and show weakness. Thorin’s eyes remained focused on Bilbo and Bilbo wanted to cry as his body began to remember how wonderful it felt to be the center of Thorin’s attentions. 

“ _Maybe I am dead and I just don’t know it yet,_ ” Bilbo stated, “ _Maybe I am with you in the Halls of Mandos and we are waiting together to help Mahal in the remaking of Arda._ ” 

“ _Or maybe,_ ” Thorin said, “ _I refused to enter the Halls without you._ ” Thorin shifted Frodo gently in his arms, allowing the hobbit babe to rest comfortably in his left arm. With his free hand he reached out for Bilbo and gently grabbed the hobbit’s wrist. He pulled Bilbo closer and stared up at him, nothing but sincerity in his eyes.

“ _Maybe I told Mahal to go fuck himself and came back here to wait for you._ ” Bilbo let out a soft laugh at that, a smile on his face. 

“ _Well, that certainly sounds like something you would do,_ ” Bilbo teased as Thorin grinned up at him. Bilbo moved and sat beside Thorin, as he reached a hand forward and gently stroked Frodo’s cheek. The babe wiggled slightly and Bilbo couldn’t help but smile brightly at him. 

“ _Or maybe it is a dream,_ ” Thorin suggested as he reached his right hand up and ran it through Bilbo’s hair, “ _Your dream, my dream. I do not know._ ”

Thorin rose to his feet and moved to place Frodo in a small bassinet in the corner of the tent and Bilbo smiled once again as he heard the hobbit babe yawn sleepily. The dwarf walked back to Bilbo’s side and sat down. He pressed their foreheads together gently and Bilbo closed his eyes at the contact.

“ _Perhaps we can work it out together,_ ” Bilbo said and Thorin shook his head with a soft chuckle before pulling back slightly to look into Bilbo’s eyes.

“ _These are questions for wise elves with pointy ears._ ” Bilbo laughed at that and Thorin smiled brightly at him. Thorin gently cupped Bilbo’s face in his hands and stroked the hobbit’s cheeks lovingly with his thumbs.

“ _You are my treasure of all treasures, my one. That is all I know,_ ” Thorin stated with sincerity, “ _and all I need to know._ ”

Thorin brought their foreheads together once more as he slid his hands down, moving one to gently stroke the shell of Bilbo’s ear. Bilbo shivered at the contact and closed his eyes again. He missed the feeling of being so loved, so adored, and if the Valar would let him, he would remain there forever. 

“ _And if this is a dream,_ ” Thorin continued and Bilbo heard the dwarf’s voice crack slightly as emotion began to take over, “ _I will kill the man who tries to wake me._ ” 

Bilbo opened his eyes and felt tears forming in them as he shifted to bring their faces that much closer together. Thorin stared at him lovingly and Bilbo felt his heart pound as all the love he had for the dwarf resurfaced. He would give anything to have this be real, to have this be more than a dream. 

In the distance he picked up the faint cry of a dragon, and he was reminded of why he was there. It was all an illusion, or a test: he wasn’t sure which. Either way, he could not stay. He had a task to do and three young dragons waiting for him to save them. He rubbed his head against Thorin’s, relishing the dwarf’s presence and touch for a moment more. He pulled back a little and felt tears trickle down his cheeks as he stared at his husband. 

“Until the sun rises in the west and sets in the east,” Bilbo said sadly, his voice broken as he repeated the words of the sorcerer who had taken Thorin and the others from him, “Until the rivers run dry, and the mountains blow in the wind like leaves…” 

Thorin looked at Bilbo in mild confusion and Bilbo gave a broken smile in return. He had forgotten that the dwarf had never learned Westron. He wiped his eyes and cupped the dwarf’s face in his hands. He rubbed circles into Thorin’s cheek as he stared at him and memorized the feel and look of the dwarf. Thorin placed a hand over one of Bilbo’s and leaned into the hobbit’s touch. 

“Amralime,” Thorin said softly and Bilbo choked slightly on his tears. The sound of crying dragons grew louder and Bilbo pulled away slowly with a sob. He could not stay. He rose to his feet and walked swiftly away, refusing to linger lest he break down and remain. He could feel Thorin’s eyes watching him as he left the tent, but Bilbo remained strong and hurried back to the door from whence he entered. 

The door slammed shut and locked and Bilbo allowed himself to sink to the floor and cry. Losing Thorin, Frodo, Fili, and Kili had been hard enough; but willingly walking away had taken all of his strength and courage. He wiped his eyes again and stood back up before settling his gaze on another door. 

“Well, the third time is the charm, as they say,” Bilbo said to himself before heading toward the door, opening it, and stepping through.


End file.
